When inviting a third into your ENM bed, is there such a thing as ‘too keen'…?

When does being keen cross the line into too much? Or is there no such thing? How much enthusiasm do we really want from the people we sleep with?

That's the question. I mean...a lot, right? I’ve always thought so! Now, I’m not so sure.

For the past three weeks I’ve been chatting with this guy, Trent, after meeting via a post on Reddit. At first chat, he seemed great - handsome, tall, enthusiastic of all things Hotwife (and with a little experience), respectful of J, and more than happy to indulge in some heavy flirting. Perfect. He’s also young (28) and lives pretty local to us, which is a bonus.

At first, things seemed great. He was chatty and flirty, responsive to messages, and incredibly complimentary. All a big thumbs-up. We set up a date to meet for a drink… ahhh but then the snow came. The bloody snow. So our meet was delayed a week and, if I’m being honest, the conversation hasn’t been really easy to continue since. Before we’ve even met, I don’t like to get too involved in a third’s real-life, or for them to get too involved in mine. I don’t want to moan about a bad day at work, talk to them about my kids, or make them privy to any of the current gossip in my friendship circle - it's not why either one of us is there - so once you’ve learned the basics of each other, and exchanged some flirty messages and photos, it’s kind of hard to sustain that for too long.

Where there is a spark, I much prefer to get an in-person meeting in the diary so we can see IRL if this is going to be fun, or not.

I wasn’t always that way.

I’ve chatted with (what feels like) hundreds of men on apps since we launched ourselves into this lifestyle, but have only met up with a handful. When we first started out, I was all for lots of flirting and sexting, but it’s something I find I have less energy for these days. Part of the reason is Thomas. I was chatting to Thomas a few months ago for around three weeks on-and-off. He lives in London, and being up in the north, we had to wait until I was heading to the city for work before we could squeeze a drink in. Two nights before we were due to meet, I was working away and was alone in a hotel room, slightly pissed on red wine, and a little horny. We started messaging and, very quickly, the whole thing escalated into full on sexting. His words were great, the imagery was horny as fuck, we were excited to be meeting up in just a couple of days, and ended up making each other cum at the thought of what could happen.

Two days later J and I were sitting in a bar in Mayfair called Mr Fogg’s. We’d booked a table, but as soon as we got there, I knew the place had the wrong vibe. We love Mr Fogg’s and have visited the Soho location many times, but this place was bustling with music and chatter and incredibly loud. Far from an ideal place to meet someone for an intimate chat. We were still debating whether to message Thomas and suggest another venue when J indicated with a nod of his head, and I turned to see Thomas coming towards us.

It was a no, immediately. I can’t put my finger on why exactly, but it just was. I saw him walking towards us and knew in an instant this wasn’t someone I could feel any attraction to.

I greeted him with a quick kiss on the cheek, knowing that if this was a chemistry test, it had just failed. I could tell it was the same guy from the photos he’d shared, but he looked different in person, and there was a shiftiness in his eyes that just failed to put me at ease. To make matters worse, he sat far too close to me so that our heads were practically touching, had bad breath, and barely talked, making no effort to initiate conversation, and choosing instead to just kind of look into my eyes - and, no, not in a sexy way. We had the very opposite of whatever chemistry is. He also didn’t even really acknowledge J who was sitting across from him at our truly tiny table, which made the whole thing awkward and uncomfortable. It’s the first time meeting someone I’ve ever struggled for what to say, and he seemed to be almost indifferent to any question I asked, as if that wasn’t what he’d thought he was there for. It was painful, and 40 minutes later we made our excuses and extricated ourselves. He can’t have been surprised, I’m sure he felt the lack of connection as strongly as I did. We thanked him sincerely for coming out to meet us, and then were on our way, with no false promises or talk of meeting up again.

That incident put me off investing too much time and energy in heavy flirting before a meet. When I meet up with people now, and it feels good between us - that unmistakable spark of attraction that ignites in the pit of your stomach, and makes you hyper aware of every look, every touch - messaging them afterwards takes on a sexy edge and horniness that it didn’t have before. It’s exciting and a turn-on to talk about what we’ll do next time we meet, because now we both know it’s actually likely to happen.

So... back to Trent. I like his enthusiasm, of course, it’s flattering. And, as we all know, flattery will get you…everywhere! But in the past week or so, we seem to have tipped over into intense. For starters, he replies to every message the very moment I’ve finished writing it, and almost every message he sends is an invite to peel my clothes off and start sexting - whether it’s 9am and I’m on the school run, at my desk in the middle of a work day, or out for the evening with friends. As any working woman will know, life is a delicate balance of all the things we have to do and all the things we want to do. Maybe the issue is that he’s young, single, and lives alone, therefore has all the time in the world to sit around stroking his penis, but I already have a husband, children, friends, and a demanding job. I’m not looking to dedicate that kind of time to someone else. Now, when he tells me to touch myself while I imagine him doing X, Y, or Z… instead of feeling a thrill, I find myself sighing and thinking ‘I don’t have time for this right now!’ and - if I'm being brutally honest - almost feeling a bit annoyed that he assumes I do. Not exactly the right note to be kicking a sexy encounter off on, is it?

The other day he sent eight messages back-to-back asking what I was doing, then if J and I were getting it on, then if he could Facetime and watch us, then asking me to tell him sexy things to make him cum, and they kept coming like that, one after the other, bam-bam-bam. J and I were cuddled up on the sofa together at this point trying to get through an episode of Night Sleeper.

I’ve had messages from him at 2am telling me he’s horny and asking if I’m still awake. I’ve had messages asking if he can call to chat as he’d love to hear my voice, whilst I’m busy eating dinner with my family.

And maybe that's the problem. Maybe, for some people, the Hotwife is an almost cartoon-like horny bitch who's just sitting around in lingerie, whip in hand (okay, yes, I know I did that once this week on Instagram...) and counting down the seconds to her next orgasm. Imagine a Jessica Rabbit-type sex siren falling off the screen. Because while I do love lingerie, and sex, and whips, and orgasms, and every moment of my Hotwife life, it's only one part of the equation. Maybe it's hard for the Trents of the world to imagine the Hotwife they're messaging is also a tired working mum with work deadlines, a mountain of chores to get done, and kids to look after, who values an evening in the bath unwinding under the bubbles watching re-runs of Sex and the City without having to construct sexts and send pouty pictures.

It doesn't live up to the fantasy, I suppose.

The other day, after a particularly fierce run of horny messages, I asked him, as flirtily and teasingly as I could muster, to just ‘hold your horses until Thursday you.’ Unbeknownst to me, J - who he was also texting in a separate chat - was working away, and had had a similar run of intense messages, and he also advised Trent to try cooling it a little ahead of Thursday’s meet.

Trent came straight back and apologised for getting carried away. And it seemed to work. In the three days since, the messages have calmed down a lot, much to my relief. 

I realise to some it may sound like I'm being picky, and of course I’m not saying for a moment I want a guy to be aloof, I hate aloof. I’ve had conversations with other guys where they’ve played it cool to the point I’ve lost interest. Feeling someone’s attraction and excitement for you is a big part of the fun, so where is the line? I honestly don’t know. I suppose it’s one of those things you know when you see, or feel, it.

So tonight J and I are finally meeting Trent for drinks, and I’m personally hoping for a really good night. I'm focusing on all the good things about him, of which there are plenty, and choosing to chalk his intensity up to a bit of over-enthusiasm. Will it end with a kiss and an excitement to meet up again, or a Thomas-style extrication? At this point I honestly couldn’t tell you, but there’s only one way to find out…

I’ll let you know!

So what do you think, is there such a thing as too keen? Comment below and let me know your thoughts. And if you enjoyed this week's blog, don't forget to drop a like down there too.

See you next week.

- The Secret Hotwife